Good For You
by PageBoy15
Summary: Multi-chapter AU in which Archer dies, Wyatt reappears, and Addison incorporates sex into every single stage of her grieving process
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Hidden in the corner booth of a bar she picked out solely due to its anonymity, Addison Montgomery downs a scotch, orders a refill, and focuses very intently on not screaming. There had been the wake, then the funeral, then the burial, and then she had hid out in New York for a few weeks under the guise of cleaning up Archer's affairs and now she's back at Oceanside spending most of her days trying to convince herself not to run again. It's proving to be a daunting task.

Luckily there are a few distractions. Work and patients, of course, plus Violet's pregnancy drama is in full swing and watching Cooper scramble to try and ease her frequent hormone surges is secretly incredibly entertaining. But all those other moments, those non-distracting moments, like cleaning out his fourth floor office and seeing the picture of the two of them taped to the computer screen, or listening to Dell's awkwardly offered condolences her first day back, or hearing soft crying as she walked by Naomi's office but not having the energy or guts to knock and go in, all those moments pretty much just make her want to hurl or break something or quit. So she made a new little box and shoved all those moments and feelings into it, and now she intends to pour some alcohol on it. Screw mental health; talking is overrated and pity sucks. Stay shut little box.

"Well, fancy seeing you here." Addison starts at the voice and then glances over to find Wyatt Lockhart leaning against the top of the booth, looking relaxed and very tall.

"You," she cocks an eyebrow. "I thought you left, chasing some ridiculous amount of pharmaceutical cash." The words sting as they leave her mouth; it's not her own voice she's hearing.

Lockhart shrugs. "There are pharmaceutical companies in L.A. Mind if I sit?"

"Care if I mind?"

"Not really," he replies cheekily before sliding into the seat next to her and flagging down the waiter. "So, have you missed me?"

"Shockingly, not even a little bit."

"Really? I missed you."

Addison has to laugh at that. "Oh, please."

"What?" Wyatt doesn't smile a lot, she's noticed; his eyebrows seem to do most of the work for him. Right now, they're grinning at her. "I did."

"And I'm supposed to find that… flattering? Remotely believable? After you just vanished into thin air?"

"I'm not the only who did," he leans towards her a bit, his eyebrows grinning away and he's very annoying but damn it, she did have a bit of a crush on him before, didn't she. "When I turned back around that night, you were gone. How's your cop, by the way?"

Bastard. "Oh, mostly likely fine. I… wouldn't know."

"Sorry to hear that."

"No you're not."

"I'm really not. Have dinner with me."

"Absolutely not," she says loftily, reaching for her drink.

"Because it's me?"

"Because it's been two months. What makes you think I'd still be interested?"

"Oh, so you _were_ interested," he teases. "When you walked out of my office after kissing me, that was you interested."

She considers him for a second; Wyatt Lockhart is still an ass and obviously completely full of it, but this is fun and simple and he's not looking at her like she's quietly deteriorating. What the hell, it's not like he works downstairs anymore. She moves a bit closer and crosses her legs towards him, resting one elbow on her knee so her fingers lightly graze his thigh.

"When I walked out of your office after you told me to take my _clothes_ off?" she asks, lowering her voice to a purr. "Yeah, that was me interested."

"Monty –"

"It's Addison."

His eyes drop briefly down to her lips. "How drunk are you?"

"Does it matter?"

He kisses her.

-o-

"She's not home."

"What?" Naomi glances over at the clock resting on her bedside table. "Sam, it's three in the morning." She wasn't exactly sleeping, hadn't been doing that so well lately; but still, you know, manners.

"Exactly, It's three in the morning, the lights haven't been on once all night, her car's not in the driveway… Should we be worried?"

"I don't… No. I mean maybe, but no. She's a big girl, Sam; she can take care of herself. If anything else, that's been made perfectly clear in the past couple of weeks."

Sam sighs at the tone of his ex-wife's voice over the phone line and peers out his window at the still dark house next door. There was a time when he truly believed things like death and pregnancy brought people together. But apparently when it came to his practice, they also turned people into walking time bombs of denial and resentment.

"Nai, you don't think she really has it all together yet, do you?"

"I think she's a Forbes Montgomery. I think she's bred to keep it together on the outside while slowly going completely insane on the inside. I also think if you're suggesting we orchestrate a citywide manhunt in the middle of the night because Addison didn't turn her lights on, that she's not the only one with problems. Good night Sam."

After Naomi hangs up, he tosses the phone on couch and bangs his head against the window a few times. It's probably wrong to blame Archer for all this, but he's probably going to anyway.

-o-

The two of them stumble into his apartment, and seconds later her back slams against the wall and his mouth lands hot behind her ear. Her fingers are trembling so badly that they struggle unsuccessfully with the knot of his tie as he runs his hands down her sides to her hips. She groans in frustration and he laughs softly against the skin of her neck before guiding her wrist away and undoing it himself as he kisses her deeply.

But it's getting too personal, the kiss and the laugh; it's all a little too real. This isn't supposed to be about them, it's supposed to be about _sex_, so she tugs him closer and whispers dirty, insistent things in his ear that would make her cheeks burn with shame if she wasn't so sure this was the last time she would be seeing him.

For a reckless son-of-a-bitch he takes directions well because within seconds she's kicking away her underwear and gripping his shoulders as he lifts her higher against the wall. And then his mouth is back on her and his fingers are in her and she's gasping and wet and _ready_ and biting her lip to keep from begging as she feels him growing hard against her. When he finally pushes in, her mouth tears away from his to moan into the crook of his neck, and then he fucks her right there in his hallway, her head dropping back as his thrusts get stronger and deeper and _fuck_ she had forgotten how good sex could be when you didn't give a damn. The whole time as her fingers rake through his hair and her nails dig into his back, his arm is around her waist, holding her up, holding her together and he doesn't even know it, until at last she comes, hot and hard, his hand holding hers, his breath on her neck.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Sam wakes up with a sore ass, a splitting headache, and a very pointy heel repeatedly poking into his leg. He cracks his eyes open to find Addison staring down at him and offering out a hand that he grasps shakily before struggling to his feet. "What time is it?"

"A little after six. Let's go inside, I'll put on a pot of coffee," she says turning to unlock the front door. "While we're waiting maybe you can tell me why you fell asleep on my porch."

After collapsing on the couch, Sam inspects Addison as she flits around her kitchen, digging through cabinets for cream and sugar. She's alive, which is a plus, and seems to be moving about without the burden of a hangover. Her outfit isn't the same one she wore to the office yesterday, but a cocktail dress and heels at this hour doesn't exactly scream early morning jog. Addison hands him a steaming mug that he gulps down gratefully, before plopping down next to him. "So…?"

"So you never came home," he begins, somewhat defensively. She's looking at him like he's crazy, like there wasn't a time when all five of them, her and Naomi, him, Mark and Derek, didn't spend every second of every day looking out for each other. "And you didn't pick up your phone so I got worried and I can't sleep when I'm worried. So then I started to think maybe you did come home and I just missed it, so I knocked on your door but no one answered and by that time it was so late I figured you must be getting back soon so I waited and then I…" he trails off lamely, "fell asleep. I guess. Okay, your turn."

Addison blinks, a little shell-shocked. "My turn?"

"I told you why I was at your house, now you tell me why you weren't."

"Oh, well, Mrs. Lewis next door never turned of her car headlights, so I decided to go over there and fall asleep on the trunk."

Sam shoots her his best authoritative glare. Honestly, it's easier trying to get Maya to spill on why she feels the need to wear lipstick to ninth grade. "Addison. – "

"Sam, relax," she laughs. "Surgery ran late so I just spent the night at the hospital."

"No you didn't."

"I couldn't sleep so I went for a drive."

"No you _didn't_!"

"Oh my _god_," Addison groans and buries her face in a throw pillows leaving him with only a mass of red curls to roll his eyes at. "Sam, what does it matter?" she argues, her words muffles and her tone exasperated. "I wasn't home, and now I am. I'm home and I'm fine, so can we please just leave it at that?"

He shouldn't leave it at that, obviously. Addison's grieving and he's just sitting by watching her fall into herself one day at a time. He should push her, but he's not going to and Sam hates himself a little bit for that, hates that it only took one failed miracle for them all to lose their fight. "You're fine?"

She lifts her head. "I'm fine."

"Okay then," Sam states flatly, patting her knee before draining the last of the coffee and standing up. "I should go, I need to shower and eat before work."

He turns to look at her one more time before heading into the foyer. With no make-up on her face and her knees curled up to her chest, Addison looks exactly like the girl he randomly grabbed a seat next to on his first day of med school, back when they were both barely adults but already scared shitless. It's enough to push him towards one last parting shot. "Addison?"

"Mmm?"

"You know I can smell cologne on you, right?"

There's a short moment of silence where she refuses to meet his gaze. "I know," Addison replies as she grabs her shoes and heads for the staircase. "I'll see you at the practice Sam. Make sure the door shuts behind you."

-o-

It's been a particularly bad morning for Naomi. After hours of restless sleep, she dragged herself out of bed only to trip over her daughter's backpack, spill juice on her toast and eggs, and make it to the office just in time to plow headlong into Violet who, due to a unexpected bout of morning sickness, was bolting to the bathroom. Doing her best to shake it all off, Naomi makes her way into the kitchen where she finds Pete crouched over the counter, glaring into his coffee as if it too may possibly be the father of Violet's unborn child.

"Morning," she tosses out, patting Pete's shoulder on her way to the fridge. "You look about as good as I feel."

"Laboring moms love Pete," is his muttered response.

"Excuse me?"

"Apparently though," he continues on, "I'm completely unneeded for everything leading up to that point. And actually I'm pretty sure Violet thinks holistic medicine is bullshit so she probably won't want my help the day of the birth either."

"You're angry," Naomi observes.

"I am." Pete heaves a sigh of defeat and runs his hand over his face. "Tell me the truth, am I being like… a complete asshole about this whole thing?"

"Well like I said," Naomi takes a seat next to him and tries her best not to finish her sentence with 'this wouldn't be good for the practice', "you're angry. But that doesn't make you a bad person."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm serious! If you think about it," she pauses, "you actually have pretty good cause to be."

"But don't you think that – "

"I mean _she's _the one shutting _you_ out. _She's_ the one who refuses to tell you what she's thinking or feeling or doing. And that's not fair because you're just as involved as she is! This affects your life too, you know?"

Pete blinks at her. "Uh, Naomi?"

"Of course it does! Doesn't she realize that you're just as scared and lonely as she is? Only you're smart enough to know that you can't just ignore all your problems and sink into denial and hope that everything just magically fixes itself! Just because she refuses to grow up and deal with this like an adult, like a _friend_ more importantly, that doesn't mean that you should just…set your own feelings inside and spend all your time looking after _her_."

"She's pregnant, isn't that exactly what I'm supposed to do?"

"What are you talking about? Addison isn't pregnant." Naomi snaps; a split second later, after taking in Pete's blank expression, her entire tirade comes rushing back to her and she realizes that she desperately needs to start getting some more sleep. And possibly therapy. Embarrassed, Naomi mutters an apology and starts to get up from the table but stops when she feels Pete's hand on her arm.

"Let's make a deal," he smiles up at her. "I'll try to get through to my crazy if you'll try to get through to yours."

Crappy morning aside, Naomi feels herself smiling back. "Deal."

-o-

After a day filled with back-to-back routine check-ups and deliveries, little to no personal contact with the rest of her co-workers, and a few heated flashbacks to the night before (not to mention an entirely new elevator fantasy; it had been awhile so screw it, she's entitled), Addison is more than ready to head on home and curl up with a bottle of wine. She's speeding through the last of her paperwork when her office door opens and Naomi steps into the room. "Hey Addie. You busy?"

"Uh, no, just finishing up some stuff. Come on in."

"Thanks," Naomi settles into the chair across from her. "So how was your day?"

"Fine. Great! How was yours?"

"Good. Long but you know, good. "

"Good." A silence settles between the pair, a distinct lack of words that Addison formally equated only to uncomfortable first dates and the last few months of her marriage. She frantically racks her Ivy League educated brain and tries to remember what she used to talk to her best friend about. Besides sex. And medicine. And family. "I love your shoes! When did you get – "

"Addison, we should talk," Naomi cuts her off. "Do you want to go grab a drink? I just think we really need to – "

The desk phone starting to ring interrupts Naomi's attempt at mature, honest conversation. As Addison's hand snaps out to grab the receiver, she silently prays that her karma from hoping for an emergent medical situation won't be too catastrophic. "Addison Montgomery," she answers, shooting an apologetic look in Naomi's direction.

"_Hey Monty. Sorry to have to reach you at work, but you forgot to leave your home number before you snuck out this morning."_

God dammit.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

"I did not sneak out," she snaps into the phone as soon as the door shuts behind Naomi. Her defenses shot up at the sound of his voice which means she will inevitably be a bitch, and a pretty big one at that. He's not supposed to call. He's not supposed to _want_ her number. "There was work to get to, I needed to go home, shower, change...."

"And me being awake would have been too distracting," he sighs into the phone. "It's my devastating good looks, always getting me into trouble – "

"Wyatt," Addison interrupts all the while contemplating the pros and cons of leaving her phone unplugged from this moment forth, "as fun as it is discovering the bounds of your arrogance, did you by any chance actually have a reason for calling?"

"Can I distract you at dinner tonight?"

Oh, come on now. "Dinner," she repeats, stalling.

"Yeah dinner. It's that meal that you never think is a good idea. Come on Monty, you have to eat right?"

She should say no. She should tell him not to call again, hang up, and then go outside and have a pleasant evening with Naomi talking about their feelings and their relationship, and she should be supportive and understanding and pretend to help even though she knows she can't. Say no Addison.

"I reserve the right to walk out if you call me Monty again."

"You just don't want to admit it's growing on you."

-o-

"So?" Pete sinks onto the waiting room couch next to her as Naomi tries to subtly spy into Addison's office. "Dealt with your crazy yet?"

"Working on it," she replies. "How about you?"

"I told Violet that I'm here for her if she needs me and told me that the smell from my office makes her vomit. And then she did."

"Where is she now?"

"Cooper took her to get smoothies. Apparently that helps with the nausea." Naomi tears her eyes away from Addison's closed door long enough to glance at Pete for the first time. He looks tired and defeated and she totally gets it. The crazy sucks.

"Can I tell you something awful?"

"Sure."

Naomi takes a deep breath. "Was it… easier, before?"

"Before what?"

"Addison." Pete doesn't look horrified so she plows on. "It's not her fault, I know that. Maybe some of it is, but not all of it. And she's my best friend and I love her but ever since she's shown up things keep… happening. So sometimes, I can't help but think that before it was just… easier."

As she talks Pete reaches out and holds her hand. After her confession he pauses for a second before replying, "Maybe the things we love aren't supposed to be easy. Maybe if they were, they wouldn't matter as much."

Addison's door opens up, and Naomi drops his hand as the redhead rushes out, pulling on her coat and making her way over to them.

"Naomi, I'm sorry but I can't do drinks tonight I just got called in but… tomorrow? Maybe?" She flashes them a quick smile before tossing out one last goodnight and disappearing into the elevator. As Naomi drops her head back, Pete rubs her shoulder one last time before dragging himself up.

"Alright. Maybe it was a little bit easier. But at least you don't make your crazy sick."

-o-

It's ridiculous, but as he walks her to her door, Addison's nervous in a way she hasn't been since college. They've already kissed, and worked together, and slept together (less than twenty-four hours ago she'd been muffling her screams into his neck, for god's sake). But enjoying him, enjoying his company, is something that she hadn't seen coming. This whole first date feeling, the nerves and the tingles and the anticipation, is something that she hadn't seen coming.

"So thank you for dinner, I uh…" she fiddles with her keys and grins girlishly, while the double-board certified surgeon in her hangs her head in shame, "I actually had a good time."

Wyatt laughs and rests a shoulder against the doorframe. "You don't have to sound so surprised."

"Well it's surprising," Addison admits, "given that…" Given a lot of things frankly; her previous detestation of his very existence for one, the emotional landmine of the rest of her life for another.

"You hated me," he fills in, picking up on the only one of her issues of which he's aware.

"I did. But tonight was fun. Listen," she starts in an attempt to prove that she's a mature woman, capable of resisting tall, handsome nice-smelling men standing close to her, "I'd invite you in, but I have an early surgery so I should probably just…"

"Yeah, no problem," Wyatt says easily, "Maybe sometime this weekend we could – "

"Okay." Smooth, Addison. "I mean, yeah that… that would be nice."

"Okay." He smiles before leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss, one hand cupping her jaw line. As the kiss deepens, his other hand slides from her waist to her back, and as her palms make their way up his chest to his shoulders she thinks, screw it. After all, they've already taken the plunge once.

"You know the surgery's really not that early," she mumbles against his lips as he pulls her a little bit closer, "you know, if you wanted to – "

"_Addison_."

Oh no. She allows herself one second to curse her infallible bad timing before peeking around Wyatt to find Sam standing there with a case of beer and a very pissed off looking expression. Wyatt's gaze switches back and forth from the two of them before reaching out the hand that's not still wrapped around her for a shake that Sam probably returns more out of shock than an actual desire to be cordial.

"Dr. Bennett, right? Hey, how's the breathing?"

"Fine," Sam snaps. "Sorry to _interrupt_." He spares Addison one last look before spinning on his heel and marching away, leaving Wyatt chuckling slightly in his wake. Addison glares up at him.

"That didn't help."

"I know."


	4. Chapter 4

They end up taking the elevator up together the next morning and Sam ignores her the entire time, which she finds childish, unnecessary, and honestly sort of a relief. I mean, what's she supposed to say: sorry I didn't tell you about the sex? Still though, thoughts of explaining it all to Sam leads to thoughts of explaining it to _everyone_ and that's scary enough for Addison to jam her finger on the emergency stop button before the doors can open up to the fifth floor.

"You do not get to mention this to anyone, understand?" she orders, eyes forward, voice even.

"That's a really healthy perspective," he snaps back, "Makes me feel a lot better about this whole thing."

"I mean it Sam. My personal life is no one's business."

"Yeah, Addison, I know. You've made that perfectly clear." He reaches in front of her to release the button as she seethes in quiet indignation. Really with all the secret meetings and affair and hidden alliances that pop up around this place you'd think she's be cut a little bit of a break. At least she's not having sex with Wyatt on their conference table.

"Oh, don't get passive-aggressive with me," she hisses as they make their way into the Oceanside lobby. "Why are you so annoyed, anyway? It's not that big a deal."

"If it's not that big a deal then why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't tell me when you started dating Sonia. _Or_ when you started sleeping with Naomi."

"That was different," Sam whispers, as he checks around them for an audience, lest anyone hear unseemly details about his sex life. "My relationships aren't steeped in dysfunction and lies."

Addison slams her purse down on the counter of reception and whips around to glare at him. "It is _not_ a relationship," she retorts, ignoring the latter part of his comeback.

"So, you're just dating."

"We're not dating!"

"You were _on_ a _date_."

"Well not intentionally," Addison says grumpily. She's still quite bitter about that part. "Son-of-a-bitch tricked me into it, all I wanted to do was get laid."

"I miss getting laid," Cooper pipes up, coming up behind them. "Two different women are totally running my life and I don't even have any action to get me through it. Anyway, what are we talking about?"

"Sorry Coop, I'm not allowed to say," Sam replies. "You can ask Addison, but honestly I wouldn't bother. After all, her personal life is none of our business."

"Sam!" she yells indignantly, ignoring Cooper's hurt puppy-dog look.

"What?" he shrugs, walking away. "You said I couldn't tell anyone, you didn't say I had to be subtle about it."

-o-

Cooper has never been big on secrets. Five seconds after he thought he was going to hook up with Violet he ran to Pete to share the news, and five seconds after it became clear he couldn't he spilled the whole story to Addison over pizza and cheap beer. As for the whole Charlotte thing in the beginning stages of their relationship, well, that was more out of fear for his personal safety than an actual desire for privacy. Secrets are messy; they hurt people, and generally find a way to come out anyway, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. Which is why Cooper decided that this time, he wasn't going to stand for it.

"All right troops," he announces to the sullen looking second half of their practice, who he finds killing time in the kitchen. "We have a mystery to solve."

"If even you don't know why you're dating Charlotte King, I doubt we can help you figure it out," Violet responds without glancing up from her magazine.

"Quiet hormones," he orders sharply before pressing on. "Sam and Addison have a secret. Well, Addison has a secret and Sam's not talking. I say we all band together and badger it out of them, who's with me?"

"Cooper, considering…" Pete sneaks a quick look at Naomi, "everything, do you really think it's a good idea to _badger_ Addison right now? It's only been a few weeks since Archer died."

"Which is exactly why we shouldn't let anymore office drama build up. Come on, Violet you're the therapist here; back me up. Bottling up doesn't help anyone, right?"

"Actually the therapist in me would say that everyone grieves in his or her own way and forcing confrontation could be counterproductive," she begins thoughtfully, munching on a biscuit. "But then again, I'm not Addison's therapist. And now my curiosity is peaked. I'm in."

"That's my girl!" Cooper high-fives her and basks in the victory of his brilliance. This is already more fun then they've had in weeks. "Naomi, you in?"

"Did Sam look happy?" she muses, staring out into the lobby. "To be keeping the secret, did he look happy about it?"

"No he did not. He was also pouting."

"Then he should be easy enough to break. Pete, Cooper, take him out tonight, get him drunk, and pump him for details. Violet, Addison's going to be trickier, so we're going to have to be subtle. Take note of anything non-medical she says or does and maybe we can help fill in some of the blanks of what Sam tells these guys. Meet back here this time tomorrow to compare notes?"

"Awesome." "Sounds good." "This is stupid."

"Shut up Pete," Naomi fires back. "She's my crazy. And this is how we're dealing with it."

-o-

"So Sam really doesn't like me, huh?" Wyatt remarks, sitting back down on the couch after going to fetch a second bottle of wine. When he had called earlier, offering to cook her dinner at his place to make up for last night Addison had only hesitated a second before agreeing. The upside is that at least here there's no chance of running into any more of her prying colleagues. The downside is that this makes three nights in a row that she's spending time with him, which is two more night than she ever intended, which means she might be slightly losing control of the situation. And that's never good.

"To be fair, we did catch him a little off guard. And then you made fun of his asthma."

"Hey, I'm a doctor," he says with a grin. "I'm just naturally interested in peoples health. Besides, the last time I was alone with him, he threatened to kick my ass. Don't get me wrong, I could totally take him but I'd feel bad if I knew he was already at a disadvantage."

Addison almost chokes on the wine as she bursts into giggles. "Wait, go back, Sam threatened to kick your ass? When was this?"

"When I was still working at Oceanside. He told me to stay away from Naomi. No rules about you though."

"Oh shoot. You just became so much less exciting."

"In all seriousness," Wyatt's voice loses a bit of its joking tone as he looks at her, "is it going to be a problem? Sam being so against this?"

"No," Addison answer softly, gazing down into her glass and ignoring her inner stream of consciousness that's demanding she figure out what 'this' means. "No, it's really… it's not about you. Sam just been a little overly protective since…"

"Since what?"

"Nothing." He looks like he might keep pushing so she sets her glass down and moves closer. "Do you really want to talk about Sam right now?"

As they shed their clothing and sink deeper into the couch in between open-mouth kisses and ragged breaths and wandering hands, Addison lets her mind slip away from the before and afters, from the reason she even started 'this' in the first place. Like she promised herself in New York, one day at a time and everything will eventually fall back into place. And anyway, she hazily thinks as one of Wyatt's hands slips in between them and presses against her, a few more hours of this and today will have been a lot easier to take.

-o-

"God Cooper," Pete snaps as he feels the full amount of Sam's drunken body weight fall against him, "the plan was to get him hammered, not get him alcohol poisoning."

"How was I supposed to know he couldn't handle tequila shots," Cooper shoots back as he unlocks the front door and helps Pete drag Sam inside. "Anyway the beers weren't making him talk, we had to try something."

"I can do tequila," Sam mumbles, sinking to the ground and curling up on Winston Churchill's dog pillow. "I've been to Mexico."

"Okay, he's not dead. Can we go?"

"Hold on, I'm giving it one more shot." Cooper crouches down and pulls on Sam's earlobe. "_Sam_!" he yells. "_What is Addison's super-secret secret_?"

"She slept with Mark Sloan," is the last thing Sam slurs before bringing his knees to his chest and starting to snore. Cooper blinks.

"Wow. I didn't think that would actually work. Who the hell is Mark Sloan?"

"No clue," Pete shrugs, a hint of an edge to his voice. "But at least now we have something for Naomi."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

"So here's an idea," Wyatt proposes the next morning, setting a plate of waffles down in front of her. Addison had decided to forgo sneaking out early a second time; trying to be stealth that early in the day was frankly a tad exhausting, and besides, this way comes with breakfast. "Why doesn't Sam come out for drinks with us sometime?"

"These are delicious," she deflects through a full mouth, gesturing down with her fork. "Got any syrup?"

"Come on," Wyatt laughs, grabbing the bottle out of a counter. "It could be fun. Naomi could even come along for back-up."

"You really think turning this experience into a double date with his ex-wife is going to make him _more_ comfortable?"

"I meant back-up for me. I won Naomi over months ago."

"Ha." Addison tugs on the cuffs of his shirt that she's already laid claim to and searches her brain for an excuse that would lead to the least amount of unwanted questions. It's truly baffling that Wyatt can be smart enough to cure cancer but too dense to realize he's suggesting an evening that could only be described as pure and utter hell. "It's just... why are you so worried about whether or not Sam likes you? I never knew you to care about what people thought."

"I don't. Still, he's your friend, so…"

As Wyatt comes up behind her to steal a bite, she lets her head rest against his chest and her mind wander. Kevin was right, on some level, when he accused her of needing everything to stay within her comfort zone, but it isn't about control so much as it's about managing the chaos. Complications arise every day; she's a doctor, she gets that. But it always seems that the really big, life-shattering catastrophes result from the crossing of boundaries and the colliding of worlds. Divorce should stay in Seattle, she should stay in L.A., and the entire East Coast should just go away. As for Wyatt, they work well together in his apartment, but that's all she has figured out so far.

"You're going soft Lockhart," Addison murmurs. A second later she lets out a delighted yelp as he hoists her up so she's facing him on the counter.

"Take it back," he mock-orders, leaning forward so that their noses brush together, "Monty."

"It's Mont_gomer_ – " The objection dies in her throat as he presses his mouth to hers and his hands leave her hips to make quick work of undoing buttons and shedding fabric. The plate crashed to the tile as they fall back on the counter, and oh yes, they _definitely_ work well together here.

-o-

Addison waltzes off the elevator into the Oceanside lobby, twenty minutes late but in as close to a good mood as she's been in a while, and almost crashed into to Naomi, who's standing almost directly in front of the door, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

"This is not anger," she starts with a tone that makes Addison consider darting right back into the elevator, "this is concern. Mixed with a little disbelief and exasperation because honestly, Addie, I thought you were passed this."

"Um," the redhead blinks. "What?"

"I just…" Naomi rubs the bridge of her nose and does her best to find the right, non-judging sentence. She's the best friend; she's supposed to emphasize not judge, and grief makes smart people do stupid things. But seriously, _Mark Sloan_? "What I don't understand is how you could possibly think that sleeping with him was a better alternative than talking to me. Or a therapist."

Addison's shock wears into a scowl as the pieces fall into place. "Damn it, Sam."

"No." Naomi scolds. "Don't go there. Sam folds easily, we both know that; it was only a matter of time before this came out. Now it has, and we need to talk about it."

"Do we really, though?" Addison hedges. It's moments like this that she misses the anonymity she managed to build up during her final months in Seattle. Having few friends to call you out on mistakes made justification and denial so much easier. "There's no real catastrophe; it's just sex."

"Sex with a man you swore off a long time ago,"

"Okay, that's a _little_ dramatic –"

"Ladies!" Cooper calls out from the door of the conference room. "We gotta get this meeting underway before Sam pukes on the table."

"Lovely." Addison's move to leave is halted by Naomi's hand darting out and gripping her by the arm.

"You don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But listen to me, Addie; it's not just sex. Archer is dead. Nothing is going to be just anything for a long time. I hope you realize that before you get hurt."

-o-

Sam's office door slams open with a bang that makes his head throb even harder, and he cannot remember the last time he had a good night's sleep, he honestly cannot. Women are exhausting and tequila is the devil; this is what life has taught him. Addison's standing in front of him looking incredibly pissed off about something, but after wracking his brain to try and decode the morning meeting, he comes up blank as to why that would be. Addison's morally opposed to coming into work hungover? Addison's mad that she wasn't invited out drinking too?

"You are coming to dinner with me and Wyatt."

"Yeah, that's not happening," Sam mumbles, tossing back a couple of painkillers. He has a feeing he's about to need them.

"Oh, it very much is happening. Because you can't keep your mouth shut, I have to deal with Naomi breathing down my neck and spewing ridiculous psychobabble every chance she gets."

"Please don't say spew. Wait," Sam wrinkles his forehead in confusion. "I didn't tell Naomi about Wyatt…. I don't think."

"Sam," Addison states pointedly "You were drunk and she is nosy. Do the math."

"I didn't! She had Maya last night, it was just me, Pete, Coop…"

"That's fantastic Sam, why don't you just go ahead and replace the video in the lobby with a streaming shot of my bedroom?" She collapses into the chair in front of his desk, her good mood from earlier on just a distant memory. This is the problem with great morning sex; it sets too high a bar for the rest of the day.

"Look, I'm sorry." He is too. Even though Sam thinks she's being stupid about this whole thing, even if he can't fathom why she wants her escape to come in the form of _Wyatt Lockhart_ of all people, being drunkenly tattled on to her friends and co-workers probably did more harm than good. "If I told them, which I don't even remember doing by the way." Addison arches an eyebrow at him. That's really not the best defense. "But… they made me do shots! You know I can't do shots."

"Come to dinner," she implores one last time. "Come to dinner, try not to punch anyone, and just report back to everyone that it's fine? Please?"

Two months. He would guess that it's been about two months since his last good nights sleep. "Okay."

-o-

He's actually trying with her, and that's more than a little scary. Well, trying to try at least; Wyatt's never been that kind of guy before so he's really making it all up as he goes along. The breakfast and the sleepovers and the effort with her friends, that's not him. The caring when he woke up that first morning to find her gone, that initial feeling of disappointment when her gorgeous face wasn't the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, that _definitely_ not him. But he did care and he is trying, and every time Addison smiles instead of glares, laughs instead of yells, he's inspired to just keep on trying.

It's pathetic. And what's frustrating about the whole situation is that while he's working his ass off, she's holding back.

Which is how Wyatt ends up driving to a restaurant when he should be home working, to attempt to actually seek the approval of some touchy-feely, over-protective, pop culture joke of a doctor. Because Bennett's a part of her life and for reasons even he can't understand he wants to be a part of her life too.

Still though, as he walks up to meet them and looks past Addison's bright, jittery smile to the death rays Bennett's eyes are shooting at him, Wyatt can't help but hope, just a little, that the man picks a fight with him. After all, that what he does best.

-o-

While dinner had not been a huge success, it had gone better than how Addison had been expecting. Conversation was never stilted and although it did, for the most part, consist of the two men talking to her and not each other, they eventually managed to strike some sort of rapport. In the beginning, Sam had done an admirable job of finding one word answers to everything Wyatt said but after a drink and a swift kick under the table, he loosened up a bit. Wyatt, for his part, was keeping all snarky and provoking comments to himself, although Addison did catch him fighting back one or two smirks.

She had refrained from leaving the table at all during dinner, terrified that awkward silence or vicious barbs would reign in her absence, but after the check had been settled and coats retrieved, she felt relaxed enough to quickly excuse herself for the bathroom.

In hindsight, that really had been an incredibly stupid move.

"So," Wyatt starts after Addison disappears behind the door. "Where'd you come up with the name Dr. Feelgood, anyway?"

"She can't hear us," Sam snaps, jamming his hands in his jacket pockets, "You can drop the act."

"Don't strain yourself coming up with another one of your heroic little speeches, I still remember the one from the elevator." Good God, even Addison hadn't been this hard to win over and she was the one he had actively tried to piss off during his time at Pacific Wellcare. "Look, I'm not planning on hurting her or screwing with her or whatever; don't you think it's about time you backed off a little."

"Oh please," Sam takes a step closer to him, anger radiating from every pore. It finally occurred to him halfway through dinner why he was so against this relationship and now he can't stop the words from flooding out. "You're already screwing with her. When you worked downstairs she couldn't even stand the sight of you. You really expect me to believe that it's just coincidence that now, _now_, she suddenly likes you? That suddenly you've just become a different person?"

"What the hell are you – "

"Her brother has been dead a month," Sam hisses. "A _month_. Ever since she came back from the funeral she's been a _ghost_, she's barely holding it together, and you're actually _using_ that to get what you want out of her. What kind of person does that?"

Whatever retort Wyatt had been planning, waiting for a break in the other man's rant, falls right back in pit of his stomach. This is… he's not sure what this is. He's suddenly filled with an intense desire to hold her for as long as she'll let him, but then as Sam's gaze drifts behind him, and Wyatt turns to see Addison cheerfully walking up to them, that desire falls back down too.

He turns on his heel and brushes by Sam, not turning around even as she questioningly calls out him name.

She doesn't want him to hold her. He's been trying and it's not enough. She's been holding back.

He's not that guy.

TBC…


End file.
